


Junk

by YaminoTenshi202



Series: Junk Universe [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, I'm so sorry, Incest, M/M, Near Future, Religious Conflict, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, This takes place in Illinois, human! au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoTenshi202/pseuds/YaminoTenshi202
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred F. Jones used to be loud and happy. Arthur remembers those days. But when his old friend moves back home, why does he feel like Alfred's sadness might be his fault?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time of Cathedrals

It was August 1, 2056.

Alfred laughed happily at the jokes his friends were making. A sophomore in high school, nothing could be better.

"Freddie, wasn't that hilarious?" His girlfriend, Mei-Mei, hung onto his arm and he wondered how it could be better.

As he walked towards the school, first day at Orwell Academy, he looked towards the beautiful statues that decorated the grounds. The angelic faces were carved to perfection and the fountains rained their fresh, cool water that was cleaned repeatedly through the school's filters. The trees were brightly lit up by the rising sun.

He looked under, to the shadows of the trees, and saw a boy and girl grinding against each other, teeth lashing out and marking each other. He noticed how the girl seemed to make faces as though she was absolutely drunk off of what the other was doing to her. The boy just seemed to be relieving stress.

"Sick."

"What, Freddie?" Alfred turned to his girlfriend. He glanced up to his friends, all in rugby, all holding their girlfriends.

"Nothing!" He smiled his Hollywood smile, teeth white and perfect.

He was absolutely flawless and loved, or so he liked to believe.

As they were about to walk in the doorway of Orwell Academy, he saw the girl and boy compose themselves before parting. Still unable to recognize their faces, he thanked God that they weren't any of his friends.

* * *

Alfred put his stuff in his locker and hastily grabbed the things he needed for first period French. His second year of French actually, but he had moved from and to the same city, Vandalia, after middle school and had come back for this second year of high school. He was in French III.

As he walked in, he saw a certain individual to whose presence he responded with slight surprise. The boy was silently reading in his seat, some papers neatly piled, few pages, on his desk. His briefcase notebook hung on the side of his desk, just like all of the other students'. His thick eyebrows were relaxed and calm, unlike how they usually were, bent downwards in a scowl.

"Hey, Arthur!" he exclaimed. He walked hastily over to the Briton, whose green eyes focused on his.

Arthur Kirkland lifted his head and his eyes went wide with shock. "Alfred?"

As he came closer, the bell rang and every student ran to a seat, hanging their things on the side of the desk and pulling out notebooks and pencils, just how they'd always been taught.

The teacher came in and asked the student council president of their year to stand up and to announce the news for the first week of school.

The bell rang again and the principal called all people in the building to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance, which was done quickly. Everyone sat after the Pledge except Arthur.

Alfred blinked as Arthur began to read the words off of the papers on his desk, lifting them to read them more accurately and precisely.

"This week, there will be an orientation for the new school year on Wednesday, August 2nd during seventh period. There will be information on club formation days, as well as rules of Orwell Academy and a small background on the history of our school.

"There is a meeting for rugby, foot- eh, excuse me,  _soccer_ , lacrosse, and baseball on Friday, August 4th, concerning game dates and budgets for equipment. Student council will be there to help with fiscal matters."

"On Saturday, there is a seminar for parents on possible Saturday classes should enough parents agree for it and whether or not the student wishes to take the classes to earn more credit hours or make up credit hours that the student is not able to take for socio-economic reasons or a career learning class.

"Student council needs help on picking a theme for the Autumn Formal. It will take place on Saturday, September 16th. The dress code is formal, as in dress trousers, dress shirts, and dresses. No denim material for either gender, any tee-shirts, or clothes showing excessive skin, cleavage, midriff, or thighs will be allowed."

Arthur sat down after saying "Those are all of the announcements for this week, Madame Mallor."

"Thank you, Arthur." Mme. Mallor turned and picked up an E-pen, writing on the SmartBoard and introducing herself to the class in fancy French. She turned back and began.

" _Bonjour, mes étudiants. Aujourd'hui, nous allons commencer avec les places que vous allez avoir pour le terme."_

"Hello, my students. Today, we will begin with the seats that you will have for the term."

They were called in alphabetical order, Madame learning their names and writing down nicknames as they went and were called, either answering "Here" or responding with their chosen designation. She pointed them to their assigned seats, all twenty-four of them. They picked up their things as they went. Briefcase, notebook, and pencil in hand, they sat in their seats and smiled if they sat next to someone they knew or were familiar with, frowning to themselves when they didn't know the person or disliked him/her.

"Arthur Kirkland."

The Briton sat in his seat, right at the front of the room. He was all the way by the window, far away from the door.

"Alfred Jones." Alfred stood and sat right behind the student council president. Hanging his briefcase on the side, he set his notebook and pencil down.

Once everyone was situated and assigned a book according to their attendance number, Mme. Mallor began to ask them to describe the activities they did over the summer.

No one raised their hands, nervous to speak in front of new people. One kid did.

Madame smiled. " _Oui, François? Lève-toi_."

Francis Bonnefoy, the same age as Alfred and Arthur, fifteen, smiled and stood, speaking in a perfect French accent. " _Madame, je suis allé en France pour visiter mes cousins_."

Alfred sighed softly. Of course, Francis would go to France. His extended family was there. He could afford a trip twice a year.

Madame praised her student's pronunciation and then looked to the side.

" _Oui, Arthur_?" Alfred blink again as Arthur stood to speak.

" _J'ai voyagé en Angleterre pour visiter ma famille aussi et j'ai obtenu un job pour corriger des articles dans un magazine adolescent d'un groupe locale_." He was praised for pronunciation as well, though he spoke a bit softly for her liking. She never could understand why Arthur disliked French class. He was so good at it.

Madame made sure to translate in case someone didn't know any words that were being uttered by her speaking students.

Alfred sighed again, placing his head down on the desk. Arthur went to England to visit family  _and_  got a job here in town... Alfred always wanted to travel, but since...

" _Alfred, as-tu quelque chose pour compatir avec nous_?" Alfred lifted his head and stood. Let's see... He moved down from Springfield and took those art classes.

" _Euh... j'ai me déménagé de Springfield pour retourner à Vandalia et j'ai pris une classe d'arts physiques_."

He groaned inwardly. It sounded all wrong when it came out of his mouth. The pronunciation, the speed, the loudness of his voice...

" _Excellent, Alfred! Bon prononciation_!" Madame Mallor smiled proudly, having taught him before and knowing that he must have practiced hard to overcome his American-Midwestern accent.

* * *

Classes went on and Alfred sat down in the library with his lunch after fourth period. It was 11:47 AM.

He looked over his notes for Accelerated Algebra II. It was just review, but he could never be too sure.

"Hello, Alfred."

He looks up and there is Arthur Kirkland.

"Hi, Arthur. Long time no see."

"May I sit here with you?" Arthur held up the same mathematics book. Alfred nodded and moved some of his stuff so that the other boy could sit down.

Arthur coughed lightly and then sat down, a small carton of milk (half-pint) and half of a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich in front of him. The binder was propped up with the table and the bottom of it was against his torso. As he opened the small blue carton, Alfred saw that Arthur had a bracelet around his wrist.

It proudly proclaimed "Belle" in white against a black material.

"Is that from the movie that Mme. Mallor showed us?" Arthur raised the carton to his mouth and then set it down again, swallowing the white liquid and quenching his thirst.

"Film," he corrected the other, "and yes, it's that Hunchback of Notre-Dame song, the one about Esmeralda."

Alfred looked back down at his notes and admired how the x variables always stayed where they needed to be, where they  _had_  to be.

He noticed not the eyes that were gazing at him from the books.

* * *

Alfred went straight to youth group after school. It was in Marloph's New Movement Church outside of town.

"Remember, kids. All of these deviants – the rebels, the fags, the whores – must be taught that their Father, their God-Creator, does not want them to do what they do. The Devil has tainted the air they breath, poisoning them and attempting to poison those still pious."

The counselor/trainer turned to the teenagers. "You must find the road to piety."

That was usually how this was... A reform group for rebels, fags, whores...

Why was Alfred here?

Oh, yeah.

It was all Arthur's fault.


	2. Come Together

It was August 2, 2056.

Arthur Kirkland walked into the school building, early as he was a very busy student council president. He went to his locker first, dropping off his things. As he walked into the library, he looked to the clock, seeing that he was walking into the library at a lovely 7:00 in the morning. He sat at the same table that he sat at with Alfred yesterday. As he pulled out the papers that were to plan for the autumn formal, "Homecoming," as these Americans called it, he thought back to yesterday.

Alfred F. Jones. The last time he saw the American was in the eighth grade. They had had a few classes together and had gotten to the status of "friends," though not "close friends." The American, he'd noticed, was very nervous around him, as though the Brit would hurt him if provoked.

Well, Arthur did attack Francis, but that was because that bastard was such a fucking pervert.

Rather, Alfred, the kind boy who was captain of the rugby team that year as well, had always kept his distance and respected the English student, which brought up the reasoning;

Alfred was a nice guy.

"Hey." Arthur looked up from the colors and designs for balloons. There stood Michelle DuBois. She was a student from the country of Seychelles. She was rather cute, but of course, like all others, she had another side.

"Same place, then?" Arthur said, stretching in his chair and looking to the clock again. It was about 7:32 a.m, and they still had about twenty minutes before they had to head to class. Gathering his things, he left them with the librarian, who would keep his things safe until he was able to get them, which wouldn't be too long of a time period.

"No, more people are there than yesterday." Michelle adjusted her hair, pulling her hair from where it was stuck between her breast and her books.

Arthur pondered for a moment. There was no Drama yet.

"The auditorium, then."

* * *

"Oh, Arthur!" Michelle brought a hand to her mouth, Arthur's hand, in an attempt to quiet her moans.

Arthur did not speak at all, only grunting and humming lowly as he thrust into her wet heat. His mind was more on his plans for the autumn form- Homecoming Dance and Alfred F. Jones.

Arthur Kirkland was one of those people that could be talking on the phone while having sex, his tone flat and normal. No one has ever made him lose control.

Then again, no one has ever been stuck on his mind like Alfred F. Jones has.

He bends down, feeling Michelle tighten around him and covering her mouth so that she doesn't alert anyone to their presence. He says, barely a whisper, Michelle's name as he fills the condom with his seed, as an act of kindness.

Ten minutes before they had to get to class.

"Are you sure you're fine?"

"Yes, Arthur. Thanks, but Derek will take care of me when I see him second period."

"Who?"

"The science of life teacher."

Arthur shook his head as he replayed that conversation in the back of his head.

"That little slut."

* * *

Arthur walked into French class and sat down as Madame was about to present their assignment to the class.

"To help us understand a bit of French history, we are going to read the Hunchback of Notre Dame –  _Le Bossu de Notre Dame_." He began to pass out the intermediate French novels and handed out a packet as well, to help them with their vocabulary.

"You will all get together with a partner and I will assign you a song from the musical based on the book  _Notre Dame de Paris_ , a Canadian play." She began to go about assigning partners to everyone.

Arthur turned his eyes to the other side of the room, watching as some students were now excited about their groups or were incredibly disappointed by the choices. He saw Alfred's cousin Matheiu smile as he was paired up with Gilbert, the Prussian student, which made sense as the two became really close last year.

"Arthur, Francois, and Alfred are going to be a group of three." Two sets of blue and a set of green went wide.

"You are assigned the song  _Belle_."

Arthur fingered at his bracelet.

"No fair, Madame!"

"Yeah, you showed us the part of the musical that had  _Belle_ in it yesterday!"

"There's a reason for that." Madame Mallor placed a hand on Francis's shoulder. "I know that Mister Bonnefoy and Kirkland have been in past musicals, and Mister Jones is going to be in this season's musical, so it would be fantastic if they could perform it for us, yes?"

"That would be good."

"Yeah! We wouldn't want anyone to mess it up!"

"Yeah! Go for it, Arthur!"

"Francis should play Phoebus."

"Then who's going to be Quasimodo? Arthur has the eyebrows for it."

"But Arthur would be a good Frollo, too!"

He turned to Alfred, who bent over his desk, head over a notebook that was being scribbled in. It appeared as though the American was drawing. Miniscule movements were being made, precision and detail obviously being favored as the slightly younger student seemed to draw something from the depths of his mind, his eyes burning the image into the lined paper.

Arthur tilted his head. Why was the boy so distracting to him?

* * *

Alfred walked into his home, placing his coat on the coat-rack and sitting down to do his homework. He pulled out his Accelerated Algebra II and began to work on that, pressing the "Play Back" button on the answering machine that was on the table next to the loveseat where his body was.

_-beep-_

_"Alfred, this is Mom. I'm going to be home at 7:00 tonight. Make yourself something to eat."_

_-beep-_

_"Alfred, what's this I hear about football tryouts? I signed you up for Saturday tryouts. Unless you're doing rugby again. That's fine, even though I wished you would go for football, but rugby's just as fun."_

_-beep-_

_"Alfred, I hope you're home right now. It's 3:30."_ Alfred turned to the clock and saw that it was 3:32.  _"I'm coming home right now. We need to talk about your youth group with your counselor, who'll be joining us for dinner. He's allergic to nuts. Please cook something without them and have it ready by 4:10 sharp, young man."_

_-beep-_

Alfred paused his writing. X's were meeting up with Y's and now the Z's were blurring up.

* * *

"Ms. Jones, it's wonderful that you've opened up your home to me tonight." Mister Anderson, youth counselor at Marloph's, walked in through the front door at exactly 4:10 in the afternoon. The woman that he addressed was thirty-eight years old, her blue eyes showing a glimpse of youthful exuberance and her hair glistening in the waning sunlight.

"All for my fellow Godly neighbor," she said modestly, and more gravely added, "and for my son to be loved by his Lord Father."

Ms. Jones turned as she walked in, wiping her shoes on the welcome mat that accompanied the one inside. She smiled when she saw her son, fifteen years old, standing by the dining room table.

The table was set with fine china and silver utensils, faux wine glasses ready to be filled with either 1968 Chianti wine or sparking red grape juice. Pasta was in a ceramic bowl, two bowls of homemade alfredo and homemade tomato sauce on either side of the large bowl. Three portions, two extra portions added in case of the guest wanting a bit more of the Italian inspired meal. A fava bean salad lay in a lovely bowl next to the ice container, wine and juice chilling in the container.

Alfred himself was dressed sharply as well. Though not too formal, he wore a plain, long-sleeved shirt that was a nice shade of white. He wore his blue school jacket, which happened to match his eyes, and some black dress pants.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson," Alfred greets with a smile on his face. He extends his hand to meet the counselor's and gives a good solid handshake, Ms. Jones notes.

The only good thing inherited from his father.

That and his athletic build.

Alfred caught his mother's gaze and shivered.

Cooking was easy.

School was easy.

It was his mother, counselor, and Arthur that made it difficult.

After dinner, Ms. Jones turned to her son.

"Do you have any more homework?"

He shook his head negative.

"Come," Ms. Jones said, extending her hand to her son's. "Let's go perform some lessons."

Scratch that.

It was because he was his father's son.

* * *

Arthur closed his eyes, hands on his hips.

Arthur opened his eyes, hands around him.

Arthur smiled, lips meeting his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from 8 March 2012:  
> Notre Dame de Paris – A Canadian play that we were recently shown in class to read with the book Le Bossu de Notre Dame. We were shown the song Belle, sung by Quasimodo, Frollo, and Phoebus. Sexy... and sad. By the way, I make the students in this fic start foreign language in the eighth grade, as this makes a bit more sense to me. I would make them start in sixth grade, but that doesn't make too much sense as it would break out of high school completely. Middle school gives a bit more of a transition, capturing the opportune moment when teenagers (thirteen-year-old's) are doubling the amount of brain cell connections they will make than when they are adults.


	3. Belle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from 22 March 2012: "Belle" is from the comedie-musicale Notre-Dame de Paris and is originally sung by P. Fiori, Garou, and D. Lavoie. Enjoy its Canadian-ness!

It was August 5, 2056.

Alfred F. Jones stepped off of the Hydro-Bus, saying good-bye to the bus driver. The man grunted in response before pressing a button to close the doors and driving off. Alfred walked for a few moments before coming to a house with French doors, white paneling and a beautiful garden. He was saddened when he thought about what it would look like in the winter: gray, dead, barren.

"Oh, you must Alfred." Said American looked up and saw a beautiful woman with dark blonde hair and bright, familiar blue eyes. Amélie Bonnefoy wore a lovely sundress, a green that matched the plants, and Alfred vaguely wondered if she was an angel; Her smile so welcoming and alluring, a gentle woman who seemed to care so much for her son. From what Francis seemed to exude when he spoke of his  _mère_ , he loved her very much.

Alfred loved his mother.

But he didn't talk about her much.

* * *

Alfred accepted the small cookies that he was offered by Mme. Bonnefoy ("Merci, Madame"), on his second when Arthur and Francis came through the door.

"Bonjour, maman. Oh! Alfred, you're here!" Francis greeted both his mother and Alfred, holding some bags in his arms. Arthur held some as well, setting them on the counter. They were full of foods from the near by farmers' market; it was a bizaar of organically grown fruits and vegetables. It was much different from the Well-Mart down the road, that was for sure.

"Have you waited long, Alfred?" Arthur looked over at the younger boy. Even though they weren't too far apart in age, Arthur had made it clear when they first met that he was older than Alfred by 2 months and 11 days.

"I just got here a little bit ago. Did we have our idea for the project?" Alfred moved to help the other two, but Mme. Bonnefoy negated his actions.

"You three 'ave to work on your project, non? I'll put things away and make a snack dinner. Your job now is to go work." She waved the boys upstairs, where her son's room was. Alfred finished his cookie and went upstairs as she said, Arthur and Francis close behind.

* * *

"So Arthur's idea was to record it with our voices and just leave it at that?" Francis sat on one of the floorpillows that his family had gotten him four years ago. They were quite durable. Alfred and Arthur each sat on one as well.

"Well, I don't want anyone to see me prancing around in the classroom." Arthur scowled. He did like to perform, but plays were his specialty. He didn't know if anyone he knew was watching during such a spectacle. In a classroom, where everyone would be judging there and where it counted for a grade! No way.

Alfred bit his lip. He had an idea, but...

"Alfred, you've been quiet. Do you 'ave an idea?" Francis heard the accent in his own voice. He tried being able to control it all the time, but he was proud of his background. Besides, a small slip of an "h" sound never stopped anyone from understanding him.

"I was thinking about dressing up as the characters... and then recording us singing the song on video. That way we can perform it and not have to worry about being in front of people while we do it." Alfred could feel a bit of sweat on the back of his neck.

"That's a good idea, actually." Arthur sat up.

"Madame said that we could record it. We would just have to turn in an extra paper about it." Francis nodded, pulling out his mini-disc player. He hooked it up to his stereo, a wonderful, beautiful antique from 2010. After fiddling with the old knobs and switches, the sultry tones of Quasimodo, Claude Frollo, and Phoebus.

"I think I'll be Phoebus." Francis smirked. "I can get the sensuality of it." Arthur glared at him.

"Do you think I'm Frollo?" Arthur shivered. A perverted judge in his adult years pining over a sixteen-year-old girl. Francis would.

"I'll be Quasimodo." Arthur and Francis looked to the shy American. "My voice can get pretty rough when I want it to without it being effected to longer afterwards. If you tried, Arthur, I think you'd just end up hurting yourself." Alfred looked down. Those eyes...

"All right, then." Arthur then decided that maybe this project would help the younger boy out of his shell. The Alfred he knew was so loud and rambunctious. It almost sounded as though he was talking about a young child, but that was how Alfred was two years ago.

"Let's start then."

* * *

Alfred sat as Mme. Bonnefoy did his Quasimodo make-up.

"You are 'andsome even when meaning to look like  _le bossu_ , Alfred." The boy blinked, unsure of how to answer.

"Merci, Mme. Bonnefoy?" Handsome when looking like the Hunchback... was that a compliment?

"Excuse me, Madame; Is he done yet?" Arthur stood in black robes, courtesy of M. Bonnefoy, who had called his son wondering if he needed anything for the project. Luckily, the costume store was open early this year and so he had gone inside, looking for a black priest's robe, a simple knight's uniform, and a zombie outfit. Thankfully for the boys, everything had been on sale due to lack of demand (Who opened a Halloween store in August?) and was easy for fix. He also found some makeup to make Alfred's face look deformed and recognizable as Quasimodo. They managed to find a pillow for Alfred's hunch.

"Oui, il est fini." Mme. Bonnefoy stood, smiling at her work. Alfred, looking in the mirror, saw why she did.

His left eye looked bruised and frightening, a strange scar on his face. His cheeks looks hollowed out, gaunt. With the eye that wasn't covered some by his hair, he had a scar that went through it. He could still tell it was him in the mirror, a strange sense of male beauty still coming through.

He turned to Arthur. "How do I look?"

For some reasons, Arthur's cheeks turned kind of red. "You look fine. Come on." He grabbed the American's hand. "We need to start now."

* * *

Francis had his long hair back in a ponytail, a smug look on his face. "I look so handsome, non?"

Arthur scowled at him. "Hurry up and start the music." He stood in the robes lookiing rather uncomfortable. Perhaps he was nervous because Francis's mother was the one recording the video, his father having to eat a small snack before working in his office until dinner.

Alfred stayed low to the ground, where his character was supposed to be in the play. He heard where Quasi was supposed to begin...

_Belle_

_A word that one would say was invented for her_  
_When she dances and greets the day, like her_  
_Form is a bird whose wings are spread to fly_  
_Yet I see Hell open beneath me before my eyes_

_I put my eyes underneath her gypsy skirt_  
_To keep praying to Notre Dame, what does it serve?_

_Who_

_Is the one who will hit her with the first stone?_  
_It's he who deserves not life in body or stone_

_O Lucifer !_  
_Oh ! Leave me with just one chance_  
_To slide my fingers in through the hair of Esméralda_

Arthur kept his cool as Madame turned the video camera in his direction.

_Belle_

_Is it the devil whose incarnated in her?_  
_To have turned my eyes from God Eternal_  
_Whose put in my being carnal desire and vice_  
_To keep me from looking towards Paradise_

_She carries in her the Sin Original_  
_Does desiring her make me a criminal?_

_She_

_Whose been taken for a whore, a girl off of the street_  
_Suddenly seems to carry the cross of humanity_

_O Notre-Dame !_  
_Oh ! Leave me with just one chance_  
_To go into the garden of Esméralda_

Francis kept his cool as his mother turned to camera to him, ignoring her smirk, for she had read the book and knew what his character was like.

_Belle_

_Despite those big, black eyes that enrapture_  
_Could this girl still be pure?_  
_When she moves, I see hills and wonders_  
_Underneath her rainbow underskirt_

_My betrothed, let me be, to you, a man untrue_  
_Before we're joined at the alter, to one from two_

_Who_

_Is the man who will turn his gaze from her at all_  
_Under the pain of being turned to a statue of salt?_

_O Fleur-de-Lys,_  
_I am not a loyal man_  
_I will pick the flower of love from Esméralda_

Mme Bonnefoy held a thumbs up before zooming out the camera slowly, to capture all three boys.

_I put my eyes underneath her gypsy skirt_  
_To keep praying to Notre Dame, what does it serve?_

_Who_

_Is the one who will hit her with the first stone?_   _  
It's he who deserves not life in body or stone_

_O Lucifer !_ __  
Oh ! Leave me with just one chance  
_To slide my fingers in through the hair of Esméralda_

Arthur did not notice eyes were on him.

_Esméralda_

* * *

Francis looked over the video, smiling. "This looks very  _chouette_ , very neat!" He didn't know if the music would be clear, or if their voices would even be heard clearly, but it sounded amazing.

Arthur chuckled at him. "You sound like you're from that  _Nicolas_  movie that Mme. Mallor showed us in class."

Alfred sat silently again. He looked at them and remembered something. "Are you putting this on the V-web?"

"That video site?" Francis asked. "I have an account. Do you want me to?"

Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. "Not really."

Francis shrugged. "All right."

Arthur stared at the American. "Are you camera shy?"

"Just a bit." Alfred smiled awkwardly. "More like I'd rather not be on the Internet at all."

"Okay!"

"Boys!  _Le dîner est prêt!_  Dinner is ready!"

* * *

After dinner, Alfred went back home on the Hydro-bus, thanking the Bonnefoys for having him in their home. Arthur and Francis went down to a nearby Soma houses, flashing their fake I.D. cards and strolling on in.

They asked for some Soma, letting the euphoria of the sweet fill their systems.

A fog...

"Oh, fuck!" Arthur slammed himself down on Francis's cock, needing the friction. He loved this feeling, the emptiness of annoyances and pains.

No more screams from Dad or his brothers.

No more frightening man above him.

"Arthur..." Francis hissed as Arthur scratched at his back. "Shh..."

The younger teen bit his lip, trying to stay quiet.

There weren't many other people having sex in the closets of the Soma House.

"Arthur!"

Arthur whispered Francis's name, like he did so many others.

After all, he wasn't worthy.

* * *

Jodie and Alfred moaned, tears running down their faces.

"Alfred, I love you!" Thrusts met and Alfred swore he saw God frowning upon him.

"Jodie..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from 23 March 2012 - 5:47 PM
> 
> Arthur) Arthur is born on Shakespeare's B-day (April 23rd). March 3rd doesn't really work with me because there is no real support to it beside the fact that 3/3 written in Japanese looks like his eyebrows.
> 
> Project) I did the same project with two friends of mine. We couldn't use «Belle» so we used «L'Attaque de Notre-Dame» and «Bohemienne». We used the end of «Belle» at the end. Basically, we made a remix. I tried to make the translation kind of rhyme while keeping the sense of what each line meant, as well as keeping it in rhythm with the music.
> 
> *) Soma house - If any of you read "CEH and then some," I recently made a reference to the book "1984." Soma comes from the related book "Brave New World." Good reads.
> 
> *) Soma tablets - I thought of them like ecstasy when I was reading the book. They told us in health class that sometimes ecstasy is disguised as Smarties candy (not the chocolate kind) in order to appeal to younger customers. Yes, they're getting high on drugged Smarties.


	4. Playing God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes from 24 March 2012:
> 
> Warnings: Long chapter with religious undertones, anti-homosexuality, a certain controversial booklet (if you live in the U.S, you probably know what I'm talking about)
> 
> This... is rather uncomfortable for me to write.

It was September 3, 2056.

Alfred F. Jones stepped off of the Hydro-Bus, saying good-bye to the bus driver. The man grunted in response before pressing a button to close the doors and driving off. Alfred walked for a few moments before coming to a house with white doors, white paneling and a beautiful garden. He brightened when he thought about what it would look like in the winter: gray, dead, barren.

Then he shook his head. He'd just gone to church. How on Earth could he think such a thing?

His counselor had given him a booklet, one from the year 2012.

He stared at the cover.

"Alfred!" Mrs. Jones opened the back micro-screen door, the pseudo-glass mirroring the outside like a plate of silver, though it had no glare. She came towards her son, who was still shorter than her as she was five foot six, her child five foot five.

"Did you enjoy the after-mass seminar with your counselor?" Alfred paused at that. He felt frightened. Church was so rigid, not at all lively like his father's church and it made him wonder if his mother truly wanted him to be there.

"Yes, mother. I did." He felt her arms wrap around him, a loving embrace.

"That's wonderful, darling." She held him out at arm's length. "It seems like rehab is working right?"

Of course, that's what his "youth group" was. Rehab.

To make sure he was normal.

Unlike Dad.

"What's that in your hands?" Alfred looked down to the booklet.  **Pray Away the Gay**  was printed boldly on the cover.

"It's a book for Group." He held it out to her, a great distance in his eyes, watching her long, swimmer arm reach out for the pamphlet. Her hand gripped it and all of a sudden, ice dropped in his stomach as he let it go, watching her take the booklet from him.

Like everything else.

She flipped through the book, skimming the first page, the introduction. After all, what did some female politician from the early 2000's have anything to do with the 2050's? She flipped to the beginning...

**The Warning Signs**

* * *

It was Monday, September 11, 2056.

Arthur watched as some kids talked about how their grandparents or great-grandparents remember where they were when 9/11/2001 occured. It was a whole week of talking about honoring the American flag, talking about tolerance...

Tolerance.

He looked over at Mathieu Williams, who had "come out of the closet" in eighth grade. Rumors had flown through airways of cell phones and Internet tablets. No one knew for sure now, though the boy had gone to the Headmaster's office to explain that these rumors were totally false.

Here, in high school, he had no reason to hide and was completely open about it.

The bullies didn't attack him up front, but rumors tried to do some damage.

Too bad that Mathieu was too nice for the rumors to hold any validity towards him.

Tolerance.

The word was utter shit.

* * *

It was Wednesday, September 13, 2056.

Alfred inhaled slowly, trying to relax his heart rate. He knew that this was a stupid idea. He held the booklet against his chest, underneath his light jacket, making sure that no one else at school knew it existed.

"Hey, Al." He looked up and saw his cousin Mathieu walk over. He could swear that his heart skipped in anxiety.

"H-Hi, Mattie." He smiled, his Hollywood smile such a good mask. Just like his father taught him.

_"Show no fear. If you do, you might fall and crash, but don't be afraid to get help."_

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the cheesecake place with Miguel and me." Mathieu's boyfriend, Miguel, and Alfred had gotten off to a bad start when they met. Alfred was more concerned with the kind of boy Mattie was dating rather than the fact that his cousin, his awesome cousin, was a homosexual.

Speaking of gay, he could see Miguel walking up to Mattie.

"Are you coming with us then?" he asked Alfred. The Cuban boy hugged his lover from behind, holding him close. Alfred could see the sparkle in their eyes, but he felt strange all the same.

"I can't," he answered. "I...I have youth group every Wednesday." He held the booklet tighter.

"Oh, okay." Miguel and Mattie turned, seeing Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio. They waved at each other. Mathieu turned around and hugged his cousin, which Alfred returned, though one arm was stuck between them. Mathieu turned and whispered in his cousin's ear.

"I'm sorry about your mom and dad, Al." Alfred felt nauseous.

"Thanks."

* * *

Arthur was finishing up some things for student council. The autumn formal had been a success, but now the spring formal needed to be planned, and some of the interest clubs wanted to have winter parties. Stress was beginning to bring him a headache.

A knock on his door.

"Come in," he answered verbally, wondering who would come to his office. It was half an hour after school. Who would still be here?

"Hi, Arthur." Alfred came in, closing the door behind him. Arthur blinked. Why was Alfred F. Jones, star of the rugby team, here in his office?

"Are you here to ask for something for thr rugby team, or...?" He really couldn't imagine why the other boy would be in here.

"I..." Alfred swallowed. Oh, shit. What if Arthur was offended by it and decided that he didn't want to be friends with Alfred anymore? What if they started asking him about his own life and Arthur was uncomfortable with that? They weren't afraid to rebuke in public, but that's what made Alfred different than them.

"I was wondering if you would like to go to my youth group with me."

Arthur blinked. "Youth group? Like for church?"

Alfred averted his eyes. "Yeah. My mother signed me up for it and I was wondering if you had the time or want to go with me?"

Arthur paused his movements for a moment, the last papers now hovering just above their proper place. Church, huh? He hadn't been in years. Not since his mother... If there was a God, he probably loved to blame the shit of the world on him and make him take a horrible job, have a horrible life... Maybe it was just his parents.

"All right."

* * *

Alfred and Arthur came into Marloph's New Movement Church, a bit winded as they had caught the Hydro-bus on time, but had to get off a block away from the church, making them run down towards the clinic entrance and slipping inside.

Alfred went to the desk.

"I -hah- know we're late, but -hah- I wanted my friend to come with me." Alfred panted to the secretary, who smiled with glee.

"A convert?"

"Not yet. I just brought him to visit."

Arthur lifted an eyebrow at the word "convert," but he straightened himself and came over to the desk to shake the woman's hand. He saw a cross hang on her necklace. It was a black crystal cross, almost giving off a glow of purple in the light.

"That's a beautiful pendant." The secretary looked down at it.

"It is, isn't it?" she answered with a far away look. Arthur knew that look.

The look of the eternally devoted.

"Come on," Alfred said, and he saw the boy unzip his jacket and pull out a booklet when the secretary turned her back to talk through a speaker and let the Counselor know that Alfred was here with a guest.

Arthur followed after the American, who led him down a hallway. In front of a red door was where they stopped.

"I'm sorry."

Arthur looked to his friend. "What? Why?" Alfred hadn't hurt him or insulted him; Why was he apologizing?

"If you get uncomfortable," Alfred whispered, as though cameras and mini-phones were listening and watching. "Just try to endure it until break. It's 3:50 now; break is at 4:20. We come together for fifteen minutes of reflection and personal talks with the Counselor at the end and we're done at 4:45." His shoulders were shaking.

"Al?" He grabbed the other's shoulder softly. "Are you going to be okay?"

The door opened. A man in black robes and a purple ribbon of cloth about his neck came out, a large cross pendant about his neck as well.

"Alfred." He smiled at the American, who straightened up. He turned to Arthur. "And your guest. Welcome." He held out a hand, which Arthur's gripped. The handshake was firm, but it seems to just be a formality to Arthur. It didn't seem to hold any sense of camaraderie. The priest turned to Alfred.

"Are you alright, my child?" Alfred nodded.

"I'm fine. Just a bit tired because we had to run from the bus stop to get here before break." The priest chuckled as Arthur dropped his hand.

"Well, then. Come in, come in." As Arthur walked in, he saw so many smiling faces.

But he could sense animosity in every one's eyes. What did he do?

As they took their seats, Alfred handed him a Bible and sat down to open his own, pointing out the page number on a black board at the front of the room.

Arthur thumbed through the pages to  **1 Corinthians 6: 9-11** , something he vaguely remembered meaning First Corinthians, Chapter 6, Verses 9 though 11.

His eyes widened as he read it.

He knew why Alfred didn't ask anyone else.

Why he didn't ask Mathieu to come.

The priest began. "Let us read these verses. Sandra, could you read for us?"

A girl who appeared to be fifteen years old stood, bowing slightly in the priest's direction. "Yes, Counselor." She cleared her throat.

"'Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived, neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor sodomites, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God.'"

"Thank you, Sandra." The girl sat back down.

Arthur looked at the page, but couldn't really turn away from the page.

_Do not be deceived, neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor sodomites, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of God._

Did Alfred know something about him that would cause him to make him come here with him?

"My children." Arthur looked towards the priest, focusing more on the crucifix that hung over his head.

"This group is for those struggling against vice. We've had specialized seminars and those seem to be working for everyone, according to the meetings I've had with your parents." Arthur blinked at that. This man was involved with their personal lives? Not just the spiritual?

"One subject that we cover in our seminars is that of the life of the sexual deviants." Arthur blinked again. "Those that fornicate, sodomize, commit adultery or homosexual acts, or have some perversion in sexual intercourse; those are the ones that shall not be allowed into the Kingdom of the Lord. Why do you think that is?"

Hands went up and Arthur listened to the voices.

"They're all unclean."

"It's not natural."

"They're not trying to have kids at all and are just in it for the sex."

"It goes against the covenant for a man and woman."

"They focus on worldly pleasure rather than saintly pleasures."

Arthur was freaking out inside, but he didn't let it show.

Weakness is letting your fear show.

"Turn to Leveticus, Chapter 20, Verse 13." The priest paused until the rustling of fine, thin pages stopped. "Alfred, could you read please? You might have a different version over there in that part of the room."

Arthur watched as the other stood, eyes blank and taking everything in.

"'If there is a man who lies with a male as those who lie with a woman, both of them have committed a detestable act; they shall surely be put to death. Their bloodguiltiness is upon them.'"

Arthur felt his bones chill.

The priest thanked the blond and let him sit down. "In Alfred's version, it says 'detestable act.' In Hebrew 'abomination' is a synonym for those words. "'Both of them have committed an abomination.' What does that word mean?"

Silence, and no hands raised.

A kid raised his hand, having pulled out his cell phone and going onto the Internet.

"Counselor, I have it on my phone."

"Go ahead."

"'Abomination: anything abominable; anything greatly disliked or abhorred; intense aversion or loathing; detestation; a vile, shameful, or detestable action, condition, habit, etc.'"

"Thank you, Cody." He patted the boy's shoulder and moved on.

"'Anything greatly disliked'; 'vile.' God never meant for anything like that to exist. The Devil works in the most cruel of ways. Your friend might be a homosexual and try to get you involved into that community." He made an X with his forearms. "Defy it. Your soul will not burn for not having associated yourself with that. In Corinthians, homosexuals are as sinful as whores, rapists, adulterers, and thieves. Anyone of these people will burn for their crimes against the Holy Father."

He and Arthur saw much anxiety from some of the members. "That's why we have this group, so that we can have your soul from the Devil's fire." Fire built in the Counselor's eyes. "But those that do not regret that lifestyle shall surely burn. They will be there until the end of days and long after the Final Judgement. Repent your actions and devote your life to the Lord's service.

"Let us bow our heads in prayer."

Arthur mimicked the others and got on his knees, heads down. Alfred's shoulders were still shaking slightly.

"Dear Lord,

"Help me to recognize those who are being tempted into homosexual, unfaithful, or whorish lifestyles by Satan. Aid me in my quest to turn them away from sin and back into your arms. Bless me for my heterosexual piety.

"Amen."

"Now we will have our break."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes from 25 March 2012:  
> Purple is the color of royalty and the color used during funerals by Catholic priests.  
> *Funeral... maybe that's a plot point.
> 
> The Bible verses are all real. They're all worded somewhat differently because they're from different versions of the Bible and I don't have my King James edition on me right now.


	5. Paradise Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is religious controversy here. Please keep an open mind.

_Of Man's First Disobedience, and the Fruit_

_Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal tast_

_Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,_

_With loss of Eden, till one greater Man_

_Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,_

It was Wednesday, September 13, 2056.

Arthur sat still as the other moved about, stretching and chatting. He didn't.

Alfred had just invited him to an anti-gay seminar. The other boy couldn't be anti-gay, or at least as much as a homophobe, as the priest, or the other people here. He wouldn't hang out with his cousin Mathieu as often as he did if he was. His heart was beating hard, and his eyesight swam a bit.

Was this how a person that was going to be hung felt like?

"Arthur," he heard and a soft, strong hand came in contact with his arm. Looking up, the English boy matched his green eyes with Alfred's blue. They looked so concerned and compassionate, and he realised that the other boy wasn't too comfortable here either. Why the Hell would Alfred be here if he didn't want to be? The younger boy had always seemed so happy and gay -  _content_ , he meant - before he had moved away to Tenessee. What had happened?

"Are you okay?"

_High on a Throne of Royal State, which far_

_Outshon the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,_

_Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand_

_Showrs on her Kings Barbaric Pearl and Gold,_

_Satan exalted sat, by merit rais'd_

"I-"

The priest came over, beaming with pious pride. "Hello again, Alfred, and precious new child."

Arthur sat up, pulling away from Alfred's comforting hand. He missed the hand slightly, though there was no real reason why. They weren't close like they were in 8th grade, so it didn't make sense for him to yearn for the other... even with what he had learned at this fucked-up seminar.

"Sir, could I have a word with you?" Arthur turned his eyes ever so slightly, just to look over the priest's shoulders and used his peripheral vision for the rest. The other kids, and some adults he noticed now, were chatting normally, though they kept an eye on him, probably seeing if the new boy was tainting, Satanizing their spiritual brother. "In private?"

The priest chuckled. "We have no private room that we could use now, child. Why don't you say it here?" The man peered at him, almost burning him with his brown, Hell-wrathful eyes. Arthur shivered and he knew why the other people were so subdued, why they responded more like robots than pets. There was peer pressure and a mob mentality. Not to mention the pressure was religious, something that held the belief that God, Jehovah, Allah, Yahweh, whatever people called their deity, would condemn them if they stepped outside of the boundaries that humans have defined in the name of said Diety. Who wouldn't want to see loathsome people condemned, and themselves saved?

But there's that fine line.

And everyone hangs from a spider's web.

Arthur swallowed. "Very well." He paused. "Everything you're preaching. It's contradictory, isnt' it?"

The priest smile twitched at its corners. And the crowd gathered slowly.

"Contradictory, child?" The priest chuckled. "What on Earth do you mean?"

Arthur blinked, eyebrows dropping some. It was like a small fight at school, though it would get larger, certainly. "You, a priest, preach of tolerance and brotherhood. You promote peace on Earth and charity, yet you don't allow true pious people in if they have a fault. If they have faults, or rather  _are abnormal_ , you could care less for their souls. You kick them out. You  **want**  them to burn."

The priest shook his head. "It is not that we want. We want them to see the error of their lives, that God did not want them to be homosexual, or any other kind of sexual deviant. Because of their deviation, they are uncontent spiritually, only proof of their sin."

_Hail holy light, of spring of Heav'n first-born,_

_Or of th' Eternal Coeternal beam_

_May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light,_

_And never but in unapproached light_

_Dwelt from Eternitie, dwelt then in thee,_

Arthur frowned. "But what if they are content spiritually?" A small gasp was heard, but ignored. "Sin is truly subjective. If it was factual, why isn't the Catholic Church still a world power as the Papal States? Your church is sin in the eyes of radical Catholics, Muslims, and other radicals, those that do not tolerate nonconformity. All you truly are teaching-"

The priest frowned finally. The fire in his eyes was growing and Arthur could tell that a cloud of distrust, betrayal and scorn. "What we teach here is piety and respect. Above all, fear of God, which sure you do not possess."

Arthur blinked. "Shouldn't I love God rather than fear him?"

Alfred blinked.

"I mean, if he wants me to follow him and worship his powers, shouldn't I be happy enough in my life before I worry about loving someone that controls my being?"

"You must fear God-"

"From the Old Testament. The God of the New Testament is a loving, forgiving God. You follow the God of Old Testament with your Christian ideals when the Old Testament is truly the Torah of Judaism."

The group seemed unsure and looked to their priest.

_O for that warning voice, which he who saw_

_Th' Apocalyps, heard cry in Heaven aloud,_

_Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,_

_Came furious down to be reveng'd on men,_

_Wo to the inhabitants on Earth! that now,_

Fury and fury alone decorated the priest's face, a red shade upon the once rosy pallor of his cheeks.

"Leave."

Arthur stood, as did Alfred.

"Alfred, where do you think you are going?" The green-eyed teenager turned to the blue-eyed one, watching as he gathered his backpack up, placed the Bible back on the nearby table, taking the one that Arthur had from the other's hands and placing it there as well.

The priest resembled one of the dragons from Arthur's old faerie tale books. "I ask again, where do you think you are going?"

"I hate this group." Others gasped and others backed away, while the priest and Arthur both stood in shock. "I hate coming here and hearing how much people are hated just because their life isn't normal or accepted or right." Alfred grabbed Arthur by the wrist and began to push others away, though not too hard, to make a path to the door.

"What about your mother, Alfred?"

_Now Morn her rosie steps in th' Eastern Clime_

_Advancing, sow'd the earth with Orient Pearle,_

_When Adam wak't, so customd, for his sleep_

_Was Aerie light, from pure digestion bred,_

_And temperat vapors bland, which th' only sound_

Alfred stopped, as did Arthur.

Why was Alfred's mother being brought up now?

"Your mother is concerned for the safety of your soul, Alfred." The priest approached, removing Arthur's wrist from Alfred's grasp. The British child didn't speak.

"You've been doing so well, Alfred." The priest laid a hand on the lad's shoulder. "Your papers and prayers have been phenomenol and the talk I had with your mother at your home was positive and hopeful. The association that you had before with the homosexual society is almost gone. The memories that you have of your father-"

A loud slap was heard. The priest backed away, almost aghast. Arthur stared at Alfred. He had hit one of the chairs, knocking it to the side. Blue eyes, almost like lightning due to the glow of anger behind them, glared at the priest.

"Don't take about my dad like he's going to Hell or like he's a bad person." Alfred pulled his hand back from the position that he had left it in when he hit the chair and Arthur could see an angry red welt forming, something that would probably become a bruise later.

"He's a good person, and he raised me to believe in God wholeheartedly, faithfully. This church... It's so hateful. I can't stand it." Alfred grabbed Arthur's hand this time, clasping it tightly in his, almost painfully so.

"You'd leave with this heretic?" they heard as Alfred placed his hand on the doorknob. Alfred turned.

"At least he's not a hypocrite."

They left.

_All night the dreadless Angel unpursu'd_

_Through Heav'ns wide Champain held his way, till Morn,_

_Wak't by the circling Hours, with rosie hand_

_Unbarr'd the gates of Light. There is a Cave_

_Within the Mount of God, fast by his Throne,_

* * *

They ran to the bus stop, watching it pull up before they got there and running in when the doors opened, Alfred dropping some Mini-Tokens into the reader. The two boys went all the way to the back of the bus, the empty seats passing by them as they scurried down the lonely aisle.

Alfred sat by the window, Arthur still standing and leaving him alone without a guide this time.

"Sit down; the bus is moving." He quickly sat next to the other, who stared out the window.

Arthur thought of what the other could possibly be feeling now. He obviously seemed attacked or at least offended by the teachings of the youth group. The question was why it took so long for the American to show his distaste and disgust for it. Was that why he asked Arthur to come, because he knew the Brit was outspoken enough to do something so outrageous in the setting? Alfred was never one to use others in such a way, though, always wanting to promote his independence and being loud and happy and... Well... This Alfred was more humble, softspoken, though still a bit loud, something that made Arthur smile. He was a different person, but the Alfred that had just defied the priest... That was the Alfred he missed.

"Alfred." Tired blue eyes gazed into his, tears spilling like pearls from their corners. "Alfred?"

Alfred leaned against the other, hiding his face against the cloth of Arthur's school blazer. "My mother is going to be so mad at me, Artie." That nickname, Arthur felt his chest pang at that.

_Descend from Heav'n Urania, by that name_

_If rightly thou art call'd, whose Voice divine_

_Following, above th' Olympian Hill I soare,_

_Above the flight of Pegasean wing._

_The meaning, not the Name I call: for thou_

Why on Earth did he miss that name? He hugged the other closely, resting his head on the blonde locks.

"Why would she be mad?"

Alfred sniffled softly.

"My dad..."

Arthur didn't know too much about the Jones family. The father, Neil Jones, had been a calm, kind, but stern man. He had been well-liked in Vandalia. Arthur remembered when Alfred came to school one day in eighth and said that his mother and father were getting a divorce. Mrs. Jones, Jordan, took Alfred to Kentucky soon after the school year was over, the same day as rumors held it. Neil had stayed in Vandalia before moving east to Bluff City, not too far away from here.

Alfred sat up a bit, still leaning on the other. "When I was twelve, I asked why he and Mom never had another kid. He explained that they wanted to adopt for a while, but they never had enough money. I asked him again because that answer had nothing to do with what I was asking. He..."

The Angel ended, and in Adams Eare

So Charming left his voice, that he a while

Thought him still speaking, still stood fixt to hear;

Then as new wak't thus gratefully repli'd.

What thanks sufficient, or what recompence

_Neil sighed. His son was so sharp. "Well, Alfred." He patted the seat next to him on the couch, waiting for his son to seat himself on the sofa. "The reason is... You've had sexual education right?"_

_Alfred smiled. "Yeah, Dad. I'm in public school. I know way more than I need to!" He loved that he was able to talk to his dad like this. When they both knew something, they could speak like equals._

_Neil chuckled. "Yes, and I wish you didn't." He ruffled the twelve-year-old's hair._

_"I'm going to tell you something. Your mother doesn't even know."_

_Alfred blinked and nodded, knowing to keep this between them. If mother didn't even know, it had to be a precious secret to keep._

_"Do you know my friend Derek?"_

"Alfred?" The boy blinked.

It wasn't 2053.

He wasn't twelve.

Daddy didn't tell him anything important.

His mother still loved him.

_No more of talk where God or Angel Guest_

_With Man, as with his Friend, familiar us'd_

_To sit indulgent, and with him partake_

_Rural repast, permitting him the while_

_Venial discourse unblam'd: I now must change_

Arthur frowned as the other spoke.

"What were we talking about?"

"Your mother... and something about your parents wanting to adopt."

Alfred blinked. "My mother was fertile... but my father wasn't. It bothered my parents to the point that my mother thought that he didn't want her to get pregnant. She thinks that Christian families should do the 'be fruitful and multiply' business. So they divorced."

Arthur stared at the other. It seemed believeable, as the crazy ranting honestly made him believe almost anything of this crazy faith. However...

"Hey, guys. We're back in town. Where do you want to go?" The bus driver yawned a bit. It was his last round for the night, no more picking anyone up. Might as well drop these boys wherever they needed to be.

"Umm..." Alfred looked to Arthur. "Do you still live on 32nd Street?"

Arthur nodded. "And you moved back to your old house?" A nod.

"Can you drop us off on 10th Avenue?"

They honestly didn't live that far apart. It was just a rather tiring walk from the top of the hill that Alfred lived on to the bottom where Arthur lived.

"All right."

_No more of talk where God or Angel Guest_

_With Man, as with his Friend, familiar us'd_

_To sit indulgent, and with him partake_

_Rural repast, permitting him the while_

_Venial discourse unblam'd: I now must change_

* * *

Arthur walked into his house, ignoring the smell of rum left out on the counter in small shot glasses and brown bottles.

"Where ya bin, boy?" Lance Kirkland stood from the armchair that was his almost constant companion when he was intoxicated. Arthur wrinkled his nose, smelling the rank alcohol around the older Kirkland. At least when Arthur drank, he didn't completely forget his manners or modsty.

"I was with a friend, Dad." His heart panged a bit.

Alfred couldn't really see his father, could he? Not if his mother was so stern.

And Arthur couldn't see his mother.

"Come 'ere," Lance cooed to his son. The fifteen-year-old approahed his father, knowing it was better to get it over with.

When Lance cradled his son's face in his hands, he was pleased that it looked so much like his wife's.

He cared not for God.

_Meanwhile the hainous and despightfull act_

_Of Satan done in Paradise, and how_

_Hee in the Serpent, had perverted Eve,_

_Her Husband shee, to taste the fatall fruit,_

_Was known in Heav'n; for what can scape the Eye_

He moaned as he forced Arthur to kneel in front of the armchair, his blonde head between the father's legs and bobbing up and down rapidly. His alcohol-ridden mind made him think of his dates with Neva, licking her milky flesh, moaning as her tongue the amazing things that his son managed to mimic perfectly, her beautiful thighs wrapping around his waist.

Their wedding night...

Their honeymoon...

He came hard into his child's mouth, pleased as Arthur swallowed the essence from his flaccid cock, not being able to hold up long due to the alcohol in his system. He walked over to his room, which was the first door in the hallway, and passed out promptly on his bed.

Arthur went to the bathroom to gargle and get the taste of his father's cum from his mouth. He then went to his room to contemplate Alfred and his troubles while doing his homework. He fell asleep after putting all of his things away and fell asleep under the covers with his clothes on, knowing his second uniform was ready.

Dad forgot to pay the heating bill again.

* * *

Alfred walked in to his home, seeing his mother on the couch.

Along with Jodie.

Jordan cleared her throat. "Where have you been? Did you take the bus?"

Alfred nodded.

"Your counselor, the priest, called. Who was that boy you were with?"

Alfred bit his lip, watching his mother and Jodie stare into him, attempting to burn their words into his skin.

Dissenter.

Demon.

Faggot.

Unrepenting.

"He was just a friend. I wanted him to come to group." Jodie stood, walking over to Alfred and, wrapping his arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly.

"Why a boy? Why not a girl?"

Alfred swallowed, closing his eyes and turning from Jodie, not even glancing at his mother.

"I wanted him to join is all. He's a good friend."

Jodie smiled, as did Jordan.

"All right," Jordan said, pleased. She pointed upstairs, to where Alfred knew her gaze was looking to the guest room. The one that no one had ever used.

Except for him and Jodie.

Alfred followed Jodie upstairs, waving to his mother.

_Thus they in lowliest plight repentant stood_

_Praying, for from the Mercie-seat above_

_Prevenient Grace descending had remov'd_

_The stonie from thir hearts, & made new flesh_

_Regenerate grow instead, that sighs now breath'd_

* * *

Alfred felt the tears pour down his face, shivering as Jodie licked them away. Her cunt wrapped tightly around his cock, like a constrictor, making it far more painful than pleasureable.

But Jodie thought he liked it, and she liked it too. That's honestly what mattered most.

He let his thoughts drift and he felt his body react to hers, thrusting to meet her hips, his mouth open and loud with primal, base, desirous moans. She bent down to kiss him, a sloppy, wet kiss.

He thought of his father, his mother, and that person.

He felt his seed fill up her cunt, making her cum as well.

She was fine; his mother helped her choose the best birth control pills in the market.

He had one final thought before he came back to his body.

_As one who in his journey bates at Noone,_

_Though bent on speed, so heer the Archangel paus'd_

_Betwixt the world destroy'd and world restor'd,_

_If Adam aught perhaps might interpose;_

_Then with transition sweet new Speech resumes._

Fuck you, Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Why I chose Paradise Lost: We read the first book in class and I found it fascinating.  
> *The mob mentality: This is the reason I can't really come out to my entire family. My cousins, they could care less and come to me for advice a lot. The older generation... Sigh...  
> *Spider's web - From a sermon by Johnathan Edwards "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God"


	6. Diary of Jane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Diary of Jane" is written by Breaking Benjamin.

It was Wednesday, November 22, 2056

Alfred and Arthur had begun to meet up after school, either at the library or at the old Starbucks that Vandalia still had. They would talk about homework or personal matters that were quietly spoken of in French. Their grades went up actually; with Arthur understanding more English and history and Alfred understanding science and math, they were able to help each other with what they didn't understand. When they looked for books on their hobbies on days when they had no homework, it became a scavenger hunt or game while at the library. Books piled on their usual table while they sat together studying, talking, enjoying each other's company to the fullest.

Today, Alfred didn't grab a space book like he usually did. He sat a bit eagerly as Arthur sat down at the table, having needed to return some books. As the British boy approached, Alfred stood.

"Arthur..."

Said boy looked at his friend. "Yes?" Alfred smiled at the other, as though he had a surprise for the other.

"Would you like to go see my dad with me?" Arthur blinked. Alfred's father? The man wasn't too far away, and he didn't really want to go home today.

"All right. Will your mother wonder where you are?"

Alfred shook his head smiling. "She's off on a business trip until next Wednesday. Everything is scheduled and she gave me a copy of the itinerary." He smiled, his eyes closed. "Today was our last day, because of Thanksgiving, so maybe your dad could let you stay the weekend too. How about it?"

He really didn't want to go home.

"All right. I'll just stop by my house to get some things and meet you at your house."

* * *

Arthur was glad that his father wasn't there when he got home. He was probably getting drunk up his arse. After doing that his father wouldn't come home for two weeks.

Such an attentive father.

* * *

Alfred and Arthur walked from the former's house to the bus stop. From there, the bus took them to the post office. By there was a taxi business. They walked inside.

"Is there someone available that could take us to Bluff City?"

* * *

Alfred helped Arthur out of the car, both boys carrying duffel bags that held enough clothes for two days along with their pajamas. As the taxi left, Arthur turned to the large house. It was a pale green, a lovely shade of the color, with a darker shade for the shutters and frames for doors and windows. Everything was beautiful, unlike his home.

Alfred turned to the other. "Come on. My dad said he wouldn't be home, but Derek is."

Arthur followed the other boy up the . "Are they roommates?"

Alfred nodded. "They've been friends since they were our age. They're super close." A blue 2053 Ford pick-up truck came in the long driveway. Alfred and Arthur stood still for a moment, watching a kind looking man with brown hair step out of the vehicle.

"Derek!" Alfred cheered, waving to the man. The man paused, having heard his name, before grinning. He quickly came over to the boy.

"Alfred!" He held the teen tightly. Arthur saw now that Derek was a rather attractive man. It honestly wouldn't surprise him if...

Derek looked at the other boy. "You must be the friend that Alfred told me and Niel about. Arthur, right?" He held out a hand, ready to shake. "It's nice to meet you."

Arthur grasped the hand.

"It's nice to meet you, too."

He smiled.

* * *

The three went inside for a snack before dinner. They talked about fun things, some stressful things, personal things that weren't too personal, but embarrassing.

Arthur and Alfred sat in the kitchen when Derek went to go answer the door. "It's probably your father, Alfie."

"Alfie?" Arthur teased.

Alfred pouted at the other. "Yes, Artie. Derek calls me that because he's like my step-dad."

Arthur blinked. "St-"

"Alfred?" The boy stood, extending his hand to Arthur.

"Come meet my dad."

As they walked towards the door after turning around the corner to the main corridor, Arthur understood everything.

Why Alfred truly loved his father and felt he accepted him more than his mother did.

Why the church didn't accept Neil, nor Alfred now.

Why Derek was his step-father.

"Did you have a nice day, hun?" Derek asked

"Yes, mother." Neil answered, kissing Derek on the mouth sweetly. "You're hiding somethin-" Neil turned to the two boys.

"Surprise!"

"Alfred!" Neil rushed to hug his child close, Arthur stepping away a bit to let them hold each other.

"Dad..." He returned the embrace, happy to have his father near.

Neil held his son out at arm's length. "You told me you'd be here tomorrow." He looked to the British boy. "So this is the boy you always talk about."

Alfred blushed as Neil held out his hand. "Dad!"

Arthur shook Neil's hand. This man was so kind.

He smiled.

* * *

For the rest of their stay, Arthur and Alfred enjoyed their time with Neil and Derek. The two men told the kids of their days in school and fanciful things.

When they were watching a movie on Saturday night, Alfred and Derek asleep on on the couch together, Neil and Arthur sat next to each other on the two-seated couch.

"How much do you like Alfred, Arthur?" The boy blushed.

"What do you mean?"

"Come now. You're spending five days, four nights at a boy's father's house. You've had to like my son for a while to trust him so much." Neil smiled.

Arthur looked down. "I... Since we met in third grade. He was the only one besides Francis that didn't bully me because of my eyebrows, my accent, or anything else..."

Neil patted his shoulder. "He's still afraid. Even if he doesn't return your feelings, which I'm sure he does, could you take care of him?"

Arthur nodded.

"Of course."

* * *

That night, he and Alfred shared a room, Alfred having stupidly agreed to watching a freakish zombie movie.

"Sorry. I like horror movies, but I get really bad nightmares unless I sleep with someone." Arthur hugged the other, putting his chin on Alfred's head. Alfred's arms wrapped around him and Arthur felt his heart skip a bit.

"It's okay. I'll keep you safe."

The two had sweet dreams.


End file.
